Moth Flight’s Vision

The old tom had been coughing for a few days. Moth Flight glanced at the empty nest at the side of the den, freshly woven from heather by Storm Pelt and Eagle Feather. It would be cozier than Rocky’s nest in the long grass. Even though newleaf was warming the moor, the nights were still chilly and the wind relentless. Perhaps a few nights’ sleep in the shelter of her den was all Rocky needed to recover. She hoped so; the tansy she’d given him last night clearly hadn’t worked and she didn’t know any other herb that might cure him.

“Rocky!” Moth Flight slid out of her den and crossed the clearing.

Rocky was weaving slowly among the tussocks, heading for the prey pile. He paused as she stopped beside him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not bad. I thought I might feel better if I had something to eat—” Rocky broke off, coughing. His shaggy shoulders heaved with the effort. Struggling to catch his breath, he looked at her, his gaze clouded with exhaustion.

Moth Flight pushed away worry. She must focus on curing Rocky; fretting wouldn’t help. Her thoughts quickened. He’d been heading for food. A hungry cat is a healthy cat. Her mother used to say that when she returned home with prey for Moth Flight and Dust Muzzle. “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” Rocky shrugged. “I just thought a small bite of shrew might help.” He gazed at her bleakly.

“I think you’d better move into my den,” Moth Flight mewed briskly. “There’s a nice, clean nest for you and it’ll be warm.” And I can keep an eye on you. His lack of appetite worried her. Perhaps I need to give him more tansy. She wished Dappled Pelt were here. Or Pebble Heart. They might know what to do. I bet even Micah knows more than me. As she steered Rocky gently toward her den, she thought of the yellow tom. Her pelt prickled with warmth. She’d be seeing him before long, at the half-moon gathering at Highstones. She paused and waited for Rocky to squeeze into her den. Following, she pointed her muzzle to the heather nest. “Rest there while I fetch you more tansy.”

As Rocky climbed in and began to knead the heather, Moth

Flight turned toward her herbs. Perhaps I gave him the wrong one. She sniffed at the curly green leaves she’d shredded for him last night. It was definitely tansy. She felt sure. She grabbed a bunch between her jaws and crossed the den. Dropping it on the edge of Rocky’s nest, she leaned close and felt heat pulsing from his pelt. He has a fever. “Eat these.” She pushed the tansy closer and headed back to her herbs. Frustration tightened her belly. She knew there must be something here to help his fever, but what?

Rocky lapped at the leaves, swallowing, then coughing harder than ever.

Moth Flight stared at him anxiously. The tansy wasn’t helping!

Catmint. The name flashed in her mind. Micah had mentioned it! He’d said it would help Tiny Branch’s cough! It looks a bit like nettles but the leaves are smaller and they don’t sting. You’ll know if you ever see some. It smells great. He’d said it grew by the Twoleg barn. Rocky began to wheeze. The farm was too far to travel. She needed to find some quickly.

Would there be any around the Twoleg nests beyond the forest?

“Try to rest,” she told Rocky. “I’m going to hunt for herbs.”

She watched the old tom settle stiffly into his nest. His pelt was clumped and his gaze dull. I wish I knew how to make him feel better. “Shall I fetch you something from the prey pile before I go?”

Rocky grunted. “I don’t think I can swallow.”

“Is your throat sore?”

“Like I swallowed hot nettles.” Rocky laid his muzzle on the edge of his nest and shook as he fought back a cough.

“I won’t be long!” Moth Flight raced from her den. She’d be lucky if she made it to Twolegplace before sunhigh. She bounded over the tussocky clearing.

“Moth Flight!” Dust Muzzle called from rocks near the entrance. He was chewing on a vole. Spotted Fur lay beside him, washing his face.

She slewed to a halt. “What?”

“Where are you going?” Dust Muzzle padded toward her.

“I need to find catmint.”

“For Rocky?” Dust Muzzle looked toward her den. “I saw you take him to your den.”

“It will help his cough,” Moth Flight explained.

Spotted Fur crossed the grass toward them. “Where are you going to look?”

“Twolegplace,” Moth Flight told him.

An excited squeak sounded from behind the rocks and Black

Ear scrambled onto the highest stone. “Can we come?”

Moth Flight blinked at him. “No! It’s too far.”

“But I’m bored,” the kit complained.

Reed Tail stuck his head up from behind the rocks and nudged the kit with his muzzle. “I’ll take you out on the moor when Slate wakes up,” he promised.

Moth Flight blinked at him. “Was Swift Minnow busy?”